


grief dreams

by freedomphoenix



Series: Pooh Prompts [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomphoenix/pseuds/freedomphoenix
Summary: Yuzuru learns to deal with the hole left by Shoma day by day, dream by dream.





	1. shock

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to do something touching on loss and grief, for myself, and to honor all the people who have passed away from suicide. My descriptions of depression and mourning are from more personal experience and will not apply to everyone.

_ “I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.”  _

—Winnie-the-Pooh

“Yuzuru make sure you come back in time for lunch,” said Yuzuru’s mother.

“Okay mom,” said Yuzuru before shutting the door behind him. The sky was a bright blue today, a stark contrast to the grey weather Yuzuru had grown used to. The differences between Japan and Canada had faded away with time; his life primarily taken up with training. He had the unusual day off, giving him enough time to go the nearby local park and take some time to study outside. He found his usual tree, unoccupied and far enough from most of the park occupants. 

As Yuzuru sat, underneath the tree absorbing half of the words on the page of his anatomy textbook, he had the sudden urge to call Shoma. He wanted to be able to show Shoma what a pretty day in Toronto could look like. It seemed like they always FaceTimed when it was rainy or late at night for Yuzuru. Shoma’s number rang a couple of times but he never picked up. Yuzuru sighed, Shoma was probably asleep, after all, Shoma had the habit of falling asleep as soon as he got home if he didn’t game. 

Yuzuru turned his attention back to his anatomy book, he really wished Shoma could be there with him. He missed the sensation of Shoma’s weight comfortably leaning against him, curly hair tickling his shoulder ever so slightly. His eyes fluttering shut every so often as he attempted to pay attention to whatever story Yuzuru was telling him for the day. Shoma would eventually nod off and Yuzuru would sigh affectionately, repositioning Shoma so his head could lay on Yuzuru’s lap. 

The buzzing of Yuzuru’s phone snapped him out of his reverie.  A text from Javier asking if he was doing okay. 

That was odd, Javier texted him every so often but rarely to ask how he was doing. Only if he had voiced his frustrations the day before but never out of the blue to start a conversation. They had passed small talk a long time ago, Yuzuru just spammed Javier with videos of him practicing the quad axel or the occasional funny video. Yuzuru picked up his phone to type a reply only to be distracted by the sound of Shoma’s voice.

“Yuzuru?” asked Shoma, there was Shoma Uno, in the flesh. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and small, huggable stature right there for him to see. He seemed slightly different though, there was something otherworldly about him.

“Shoma? What are you doing here?” asked Yuzuru.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you want to see me?”

“Of course I wanted to see you, but how did you get here?” asked Yuzuru.

“That’s not important,” said Shoma, “let’s hang out. Today’s your day off right?”

“Yeah, Brian has been letting me off for some reason,” said Yuzuru. 

“Maybe he recognizes you’ve been getting too stressed,” said Shoma offering his hand to Yuzuru. Yuzuru grabs Shoma’s hand and Shoma must really be there in the flesh, his hand was slightly warm and there were small calluses on his hands from weight training. Yuzuru allowed his hand to linger for a brief moment, soaking in the fact that Shoma was there before tugging on Shoma’s hand to pull himself up.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to show me what there is to do in Toronto,” said Shoma.

“But how did you get here?” asked Yuzuru, still confused as to how Shoma was here with him.

“That’s not important, let’s just enjoy our time together, I don’t have long before Mihoko-sensei finds out,” said Shoma.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, show me around,” said Shoma, “I’m hungry.”

“All you do is eat and game,” said Yuzuru walking in the direction of a restaurant.

“Is there something wrong with that?” asked Shoma.

“I thought you came here to see me? Or did you just come here to eat?” asked Yuzuru.

“Both, but more of getting you to eat,” said Shoma.

“Fine, fine,” said Yuzuru. Yuzuru guides Shoma to one of his favorite restaurants, the smaller boy follows along, stopping every so often to take in the scenery.

“It’s so beautiful today, you told me that it’s always gloomy here,” said Shoma.

“It usually is, I wanted to show this to you—” Yuzuru’s phone goes off and Shoma begins to fade. “No, Shoma—” Yuzuru reached out for Shoma and he disappeared with a small, sad smile, fading into the wind. 

Yuzuru’s eyes opened and he was still under the tree, phone in hand.  Javier’s text blinked at him. 

He wasn’t okay.


	2. denial

“Yuzuru you made it back for lunch,” Yuzuru’s mother watches her son trek in, face somber. She thought that the fresh air would do him some good, but maybe it left him alone with his thoughts for too long. “How are you?”

“Okay,” said Yuzuru. He sat at the table and stared at the food his mother made, having no desire to eat. Nothing felt quite the same. Everything was dull, nothing quite real.

“I made your favorites,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Yuzuru. He stared at his food, blank. With shaking hands he grabbed his chopsticks. He attempted to use his chopsticks but it fell out of his hand, his whole body shaking. He was crying, again. Yuzuru’s mother ran over to her son, wrapping her arms around him as he cried into her chest. “He was there, I saw him, at the park.”

“Honey, he can’t be there,” said Yuzuru’s mother.

“But he was so real, I felt his hand,” said Yuzuru, staring at his mother desperately. Shoma still had to be here, he wouldn’t leave him so suddenly. He still had to be alive.

“Yuzuru,” she felt her heart break as her son tried to piece together what happened to Shoma. “He’s dead.”

“No, he can’t be. I just talked to him. He told me he was getting better, mom, he told me he was taking medicine.” 

“Yuzuru how about you eat a little bit and then lie down,” she said.

“He wanted to eat with me,” said Yuzuru, remembering Shoma asking to eat with him.

“Shoma would want you to eat,” she said. Her son had barely eaten since they received the news. He still seemed to deny Shoma was gone.

“Yes, I’ll eat,” said Yuzuru. He eats slowly, mechanically. Yuzuru’s mother sat across from him, allowing him to eat. Her eyes sad.

* * *

“Yuzuru I decided to take anti-depressants,” said Shoma over the phone. Shoma was there, talking to him. Yuzuru watched, there, but not quite there as Shoma toyed with his shirt, hair messy and matted.

“Really? I didn’t know that you were—” Yuzuru paused, unsure what to say. That he didn’t know Shoma was struggling with depression. It would emphasize that he was a completely unobservant boyfriend. 

He had known, some part of him. 

The way that Shoma would disengage occasionally, his withdrawn behavior, or his unwillingness to leave his room. He had always considered those to be nuances of Shoma’s personality, never thought that maybe Shoma did want to hang out but simply couldn’t convince himself to leave the bed. The need to sleep, not always from genuine exhaustion but rather from the desire to escape the inner workings of his mind.

A part of Yuzuru’s brain registers the regret of not researching his boyfriend’s struggle earlier. The information he had read page after page of—useless—in his brain now the person who was suffering was gone.

“Yeah, I’m depressed and I also apparently suffer from anxiety,” said Shoma. “Who would’ve known that feeling nothing or everything was unhealthy,” said Shoma laughing. Yuzuru didn’t quite know how to react to Shoma’s cynical humor.

“Oh I’m sorry,” said Yuzuru.

“It’s fine, better than some of the other figure skaters suffering from anorexia, anxiety, and depression,” said Shoma, laughing again. He was pushing down the importance of his struggle. Laughing off how serious it actually was. The idea that someone else had it worse, his pain and suffering invalidated because he wasn’t suffering too badly in his eyes.

“That’s not true, it isn’t fine,” said Yuzuru. But the words disappeared. They were unheard by Shoma. They were words he wished he could’ve said. 

Yuzuru could hear himself awkwardly laughing, “Thank you for telling me what was going on.”

“Yeah,” said Shoma pausing, “I thought you should know.” Yuzuru’s watches silently this time as Shoma fades away, small body staring at his grainy face through the phone. He looked so small, and Yuzuru wanted to comfort him. To tell him his struggle was real and he didn’t have to be alone. 

Too little too late. 

Yuzuru wished he had done better.

“Yuzuru I love you,” said Shoma turning over to stare at Yuzuru’s face. They had spent many nights, side by side. Shoma's small sturdy body warming Yuzuru's thinner frame.

“I love you too,” said Yuzuru leaning in to press a soft kiss to Shoma’s chapped lips. “What brought this up all of a sudden?” asked Yuzuru. Shoma wasn’t usually one to express his emotions through words. He was much more a man of action.

“I’m not allowed to say that I love you?” asked Shoma. 

Yuzuru wished he had taken time to dig deeper. He wished that he had looked deeper into those round brown eyes he loved so much and saw that Shoma was saying goodbye. 

He was practicing. 

He loved him and he wanted Yuzuru to know. “I want you to know I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Please stop saying goodbye, please, Shoma,” pleaded Yuzuru. Shoma faded again with Yuzuru’s unspoken words.

Yuzuru could see how hauntingly empty Shoma’s eyes were now.  “Sometimes I don’t feel anything,” said Shoma. He hadn’t done well in practice for the day. “I’d usually cry, but nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Maybe today was extra hard,” said Yuzuru. Yuzuru watched himself with deep resentment.

“Hm, maybe,” said Shoma, brushing off his struggle once more. “How was your day?” Yuzuru could hear himself enthusiastically discussing the quad axel he tried today. He was never observant enough.

A sharp ringing interrupts, Yuzuru’s eyes open and Shoma was gone again.

Yuzuru blindly grabbed for his phone, it was Brian. Yuzuru took a deep breath and answered the phone, he was okay, he could do this, “Hey Brian.”

“Hi there Yuzuru,” said Brian, his voice kind. There was a hesitant pause and Yuzuru already anticipated the question. “How are you doing?” asked Brian, he was using the gentle voice, the one he used when he told Yuzuru his injury was too severe to compete. It was the voice he used to try to convince Yuzuru to calm down and think clearly and objectively. It was also the voice he used when Yuzuru was unhappy with his score.

“Fine,” said Yuzuru. 

He was fine. 

If he was able to push everything down he could deny anything had ever happened. He would see Shoma soon during his trip back to Japan. He refused to believe the young man he had loved so much with his entire being was gone. 

The warm brown eyes, soft lazy smiles. Comfortable hugs and gentle hands rubbing Yuzuru’s struggles away. Empathy and humor. Love, so much of it overflowing from Shoma’s entire being. Yuzuru felt tears pooling in the corner of his eyes and he furiously rubbed them away. 

Shoma was not gone.

“It’s okay to not be fine. You can take as many days as you need,” said Brian. Why would he need to do that? 

Shoma was not gone. He was still alive. He wanted to scream at Brian to stop. To tell him to stop talking like he was suffering from the loss of something. 

He was okay. 

Everything was fine.

“No, I want to skate again,” said Yuzuru. He needed to return to normal. He wanted to show Shoma his quad axel. He wanted to compete with Shoma. He wanted to hold him tight after a hard competition and giggle as they poked each other’s sore muscles. He would see Shoma again. He would land in Japan and Shoma would greet him at the bus with a bright smile and open arms.

“Are you sure?” asked Brian. “I don’t want you to skate if you aren’t emotionally ready.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Yuzuru with conviction.

“How about you come and do some of the group training,” said Brian. “Help you ease back in.”

“That’s fine,” said Yuzuru. A part of him dreaded seeing the looks of sympathy and possibly even pain on other people’s faces. But he could not afford to miss any more practice. He needed to return to normal. Practice meant competition. Competition meant seeing Shoma again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please reach out if you need help.  
> Here's the number for the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> There are also crisis lines that you can text if you don't feel comfortable calling.


End file.
